i.

Jet dragged two corpses from the ashes. They were not his parents, but the charred bodies all looked the same.Death equalizes us all.

Pain transcended death, he thought. Then he shivered. Strange words clawed from his mouth. Foreign words, sour and tart, rose like bile. Effigy. Samsara. Death Mask. Heaven. The Ninth Circle. Eight year-olds shouldn't know this, couldn't know this, but Jet just knew.

He grabbed a fallen branch and began digging two graves. The air smelled of sulfur and firewood.

Jet wondered if he should replace the corpses with another pair. They stank.

ii.

The first sunset since his parents' death, Jet ran to the hidden spot behind the fire lilies where he grew his own wheat (for emergencies, in case he decided to run away).

The flowers were wilted.

In death, wheat flowers don't bloom.

He took his sword and slashed at the lilies.

There was no choice but to run away.

iii.

Jet dragged two corpses from the ashes. They were not members of the Rough Rhinos, but bloated bodies all looked the same. Death equalizes us all.

iv.

Once upon a time, Jet was just a little boy crushing berries under his feet and painting tree bark. Red was once his favorite color. It looked better on tree bark than filling up his vital organs.

He liked to think that the last face he saw was Katara's.

(But it wasn't. The last thing he saw was Longshot unsheathing an arrow, then—)